Page 28 of Thankful For Him

It’s time for us all to give thanks, before the final course of our meal together and I listen with another lump in my throat as Mark again gives thanks for having his only daughter returned to him, safe and sound once again.

Misty gives thanks for having been saved, and for having the best, most understanding Dad in the world, which draws a dry laugh from Mark but I have to agree.

“And I give thanks,” I say, hooking Misty’s foot with mine under the table. “For great food, the best of friends, and for a happy ending in what could have been a day that ended very differently.”

We raise our glasses, and I toast my best friend, Mark.

I also toast my newest best friend and a very special lady who I vow to spoil rotten every day for the rest of her long life with me.

But I give silent thanks too, for the man upstairs not taking back one of his angels.

Not before I know she’s through weaving the magic I know lies ahead for us both.

For us, and for our future family.

For Misty, for having her back with me as well as in my arms forever, I give the ultimate thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving.EpilogueTwo MONTHS LATERMistyZak got us a place, a choice of places really.

“Take your pick, Honey!” he’d beamed, showing me the portfolios, spreading them out on the counter of the hotel suite he’d had us both staying in a week after Thanksgiving.

I never minded, wherever Zak was, I was. And still am.

Dad wanted me to stay at home, with him. But after just a few days at the lake house after Thanksgiving, it was clear we really all needed our own space.

I never knew Dad had his own real estate thing either, but Zak’s…

Well, let’s just say Zak has more capital than my Dad. And he didn’t even flinch when I picked the house I wanted for us both, the biggest. He’d made sure to blackout all the prices too.

Zak just does that sometimes, doesn’t want me worrying about money.

“I knew you’d pick that one, I hoped you would anyway,” he’d smiled. “Even though they’re all ours,” he’d added as an afterthought, which made me weak in the knees.

Ours.

Every time I hear him say it, I just still can’t believe it.

And so, we moved in. I didn’t have to lift a finger, with everything we needed or wanted being delivered and moved in for us. Zak’s own stuff arrived by container, and he set up his own little space, his office.

The days have become weeks, and two months later, and still, my Dad is being a pain in the ass. Not even wanting to talk with Zak about the wedding he and I have planned.

“Not until she’s pregnant, Zak. Not until there’s proof you’ll make a commitment to her and a family…”

The amount of times I’ve heard Dad say that it’s like a broken record like he doesn’t think Zak’s capable of raising a family. Like he’s waiting for the whole thing between us to just blow over.

Like we really need his permission.

But Zak’s true to his word, he promises that there’ll be no wedding until we have the pitter-patter of tiny feet first if that’s how my Dad wants it.

Shotgun style.

“He’s just stalling,” I comfort Zak as he runs his hands through his hair after a short but loud conversation with my Dad on speaker. “He’ll come around.”

I sit on the edge of Zak’s desk, next to him as he runs his hand up my thigh, me starting to chew a nail.

Absently, I start to leaf through the sheaf of bills piled up in a tray next to me, making me gasp.

“Zak? It seems all we’re doing is spending money,” I exclaim, a pang of worry and even guilt running through me. But Zak only laughs as he glosses over the pile before tossing it back in its tray.

“Misty?” he asks, pulling me gently into his lap. “Those are just day to day expenses, nothing for you to worry about,” he informs me.

“You’ve got your cards, and plenty of cash, use them. Buy whatever you think we need or whatever you want,” he says with total confidence.

I gnaw at my lip, realizing there’ll be one purchase not on any statement. The only thing I’ve ever kept from Zak.

Something I thought was stupid, but I had to know.

“What is it, honey?” Zak asks, sensing my mood, knowing something’s always up when I come to sit on the edge of his desk.

When I want just him I only need to put both hands on the front of it and give him the look. He takes care of the rest after that, always.

And every night in our bed too.

But today is different. I came in with some news and my Dad’s railroaded things. Making me think Zak might not want me if-

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